Abbaye, a master artist, was ready to retire in 1392. One day, Bartoli, a rich Italian merchant,  1 him saying, "Could you 2  my portrait on my banquet room wall? It's 20 feet tall.”

    “I'm ready to retire," Abbaye shook his head,“so I'm not  3.”But seeing the disappointment in Bartoli's eyes, he   4  his mind, "Well, there's a possibility if you can find it in your  5  to allow me to explore the  6  of my abilities. Furthermore, already I can see your 7 .So I insist

that while l work your portrait stay 8  even from you!”

    “No problem," Bartoli agreed, though he thought it was  9  ，"Anything you wish, but it must look realistic．”

Immediately the master artist  10  a high curtain in front of the wall, -through which Bartoli couldn't see at all.

A week passed. "How is it coming?" asked the  11   Bartoli.

     “It's coming quite well. You see, a masterpiece  12   quite a while at least.” Abbaye answered from behind the  13   ．

Another three, four weeks passed and  14half a year went by. Bartoli lost his  15 .“Today I must see it!" he shouted.

Stepping from behind the curtain 16  surprised by such anger, Abbaye said calmly," That's fine.

You needed only to request it.” And he  17  aside the 20 - foot curtain.

          Bartoli stared at the masterpiece and then his mouth 18  open. He was obviously so angry that his eyes  19  red. So what was wrong? Abbaye had drawn to his heart's  20  for 20 feet tall. Perhaps Bartoli couldn't tolerate his abstract expression, which Picasso would have been proud of.

All Quiet in a Darkened Library

    After my mother died, my father, who was 75 at the time, began to regularly visit the local library in Epping. He loved going there1 he enjoyed reading different kinds of books, especially reading the newspapers on Saturdays. The library had a small area, where the soft carpet, folding chairs and lap desks 2a comfortable space for independent reading. My dad would sit there for hours. This particular wintery Saturday, at about 12 noon, after being there for two hours, my dad 3 that it was very quiet and darker than usual. He looked around, realizing that all the staff had left and he had been 4locked in.

    My dad was a “panic merchant” at the best of times, so I can only 5 what he was like when this happened. The doors had been locked from the outside and he had no way 6 He must have felt completely at a 7 since he didn't know some 8 for handling this kind of crazy situation. My dad looked at the noticeboards to try to find a 9 phone number—a staff member or someone he could ring to help let him out—but without 10 So he rang the police station and they kindly got in touch with the head librarian.

    The head librarian immediately rang my dad back at the library, and 11that she would be soon there. She tried to 12 him and even explained how he could make a coffee if he wished. This was very nice, but my dad was in too much of a “13” to do so.

    Thankfully, the head librarian arrived 14 the hour and let my dad out. She apologized for the15it had caused my father and sent my father back home in person. We were very grateful, since she could easily have been16at having to come back to work. The next day my dad seemed to17 from this accident. He almost forgot all about the unpleasantness, and even found his experience quite 18.

    I guess the entire staff now makes extra sure that the library is 19 before they leave. What's more, my dad has learned an important lesson by himself—never again became quite so20in his reading.

    I became a gardener when I was twelve. My early 1 of gardening may not have originated from my love for nature. It was to 2 my parents.

    At that time, we had a big yard in which a beautiful maple tree stood. But my mother often looked with3at this work of natural art. Those golden leaves seemed like tons of rubbish to her, “something else to 4!” Seeing the neighbors busy with gardening, my father even thought it a waste of time.

    At that age, I always did something 5to whatever my parents did! If gardening were something they found 6.1 would plant a garden!

    I planted some lily(百合花）in the yard. But they failed to7. I continued to plant sunflower seeds and roses. Wild 8joy, I found the first rose bloom. One by one, the flowers bloomed their heads off.9, I was touched by this land of wonder.

    10, my parents showed no interest in my garden. My father even11at me because he found it was 12 to move around my garden to the driveway. To my mother's13 , I put in her vase my real roses which, in her eyes, were simply weeds14flowers.

    Regardless of their 15, I kept on planting my garden and16 to enjoy the pleasure of gardening. Plants make such good companions: they breathe, they bloom, they17to care and love.

    It has been many years since I made my first garden out of my desire to 18my parents. Today I become known as Mrs. Greenthumbs, teaching gardening and hosting a gardening show, which makes my parents feel very 19. And now I could say it is my affection for20 that makes me a real gardener.

    Last year, I was lucky enough to work at an office near my mother's house.1, I stayed with her for a month. During that time, I 2 her out with the housework and contributed to the groceries.

    After a week, I started to 3 the groceries were running out pretty quickly.4, I began observing my mother's daily routine for two weeks. To my 5, I found she would pack a paper bag full of canned goods and 6every morning at about nine. She took the food to the slums（贫民窟）and distributed it to street 7.

    I asked around and 8 my mum was popular in the area. The kids looked up to her as if she were their own mother. Then it hit me — why didn't she want to tell me about what she'd been doing? Was she 9 that I would stop buying the groceries if I knew the truth?

    When she got home, I told her about my discovery and 10 she could react, I gave her a big hug and told her she didn't need to keep it a 11 from me. She told me that 12 of the children lived with an old lady in a makeshift home while others13on the streets. For years, my mum had been helping out by 14 whatever food she could 15. I was so moved by how 16 she was. She used what was17for her to help others in need. And I was so 18 of her.

    I 19 to buy groceries for my mum. But now, I always add a(n) 20bag for her other children.

    The back door of the ambulance (救护车) was suddenly shut and the driver ran to the front, jumped into his seat, and started the engine. Inside were the 1parents, Mr. and Mrs. Green, the mother holding their baby daughter Ally. The little girl had 2 food stuck in her throat(喉咙) and could hardly breathe.

    The driver, Mr. White, 3 his siren (报警器) and flashing light, and started speeding towards the nearest hospital, fighting against 4. The cars ahead of him pulled out of the way as he drove through the 5. From the back of the 6the parents were shouting at him to 7, since Ally had almost 8 breathing. In front of him he saw some traffic lights, with the red "STOP" light shining. Mr. White knew that he had no time to 9, so he drove straight past the traffic lights, looking 10 his left and right as he did so.

    Coming towards him from his right was a taxi. The driver had the windows 11, since the car was air-conditioned(空调开放的), and he was playing his radio. He did not 12the ambulance. The lights were green, so he drove straight 13 into the path of the ambulance.  Mr. White tried to stop his ambulance but it was too late. It hit the taxi. Everybody was shaken but no one was hurt. Mr. White looked to see 14Ally was. He was astonished to see relief (宽慰) instead of 15on the faces of the parents.

    "Look!" cried Mrs. Green. "She is 16 again."

    "It must have been the 17" said her husband. "It 18 the food out of her throat." The baby's color was turning to normal(正常的), and she was crying in a loud but healthy 19 . They were all joyful, and quite forgot about the accident, the taxi, and the lines of 20all around them.

I was on a family holiday in Palma, Mallorca, in July 2001. One weekend we rented a motorboat and we were going 1, crashing over big waves. It was an exciting, but also a(n) 2 feeling. I began to realize something was wrong only when we got back on 3. We went for a 4, and I sat in the restaurant wondering why the table was swaying. 5 I got back to Britain, such feeling increased, making simple tasks at home 6.

After several more 7 with doctors, I remember feeling 8 when they didn't find a brain tumor: at least that would have explained things. I started to do my own 9, reading related articles and consult experts. Finally I got a(n) 10 diagnosis of MdDS from the National Hospital in London. But they told me there is no 11, and all they could do was help me manage my mental health.

Nearly 20 years on, I'm still living 12 MdDS. People have suggested different ways of treatment and I've 13 all sorts of strange theories, but nothing has 14 for me. I'll never lose heart and I hope something will be 15 within my lifetime.

For me, one way of coping has been to 16 people about the condition. I've found fellow 17 all over the world, and have set up a website in the hope that 18 else has to go through what I did, struggling to get a diagnosis.

One of the most peculiar things about MdDS is that it's 19 triggered, and yet motion—by car, train, plane or boat—can bring temporary 20. Some long time sufferers become almost like travel addicts, desiring that release.